SHIELD Origins: HAWKEYE
by Lee Anna Kindred
Summary: Who is Clinton Francis Barton and how did he come to work for Shield? With the Avengers? This is an origin story for Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton. Multi-chapter. Multiple crossovers. Ongoing. (Updates at least every Monday evening).
1. Part 1: Carson's Carnival of Wonders

A/N: So this is a MASSIVE fictional undertaking. This is going to be Clint's entire backstory up to when he goes to watch over the Tesseract. I may continue beyond that, but we will see. That being said, This is also a massive crossover. I will make a bullet point of what crossover to expect in each story arc. This will cover Clint from the time he was in the circus (and being betrayed) all the way to Shield and the Avengers. That is all I'm saying. I won't give anything away ;)

 _Crossover: None_

 _Alias: Clinton Francis Barton_

 _Age: 16_

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PART 1: CARSON'S CARNIVAL OF WONDERS

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A/N: This will be extremely AU. I'm taking liberties and making my own backstory for Clint since he's never had his own origins movie. I will update once a week, every monday night. But if I don't, I didn't have muse to continue or needed more time to research. But please review. Reviews give me even more incentive to do this. As mentioned, this is very AU and loosley follows the comics and movies. Both MCU and other movies. Chapter one will post this week as well, and it will be long and cover Clint's time in the circus. I haven't decided if I will split it into parts like I plan to do with all the story arcs. Please enjoy and bare with me as I undergo this massive undertaking.


	2. Pt 1: Chapter 1

A/N: I know. Two updates. Just because I said I'd try to update every Monday doesn't mean I can't keep going. Besides...the first chapter wasn't even a chapter. Enjoy!

 _Crossover: None_

 _Alias: Clinton Francis Barton_

 _Age: 16_

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PART 1: CARSON'S CARNIVAL OF WONDERS

* * *

 ** _Chapter One_**

Clint pulled back the string, drawing in a deep breath as he held it taught, the arrow straight and pointing in the direction he wanted it to go. He blinked once...twice...but didn't move a single ocular muscle as he focused on the target. His left hand was strong and his fingers were gripping the arrow as his eyes continued to calculate the distance. He made a small adjustment to his arm and let the arrow fly. It whizzed through the air until it hit the target hard, the shaft of the arrow quivering from the distance traveled. It was a perfect bulls-eye.

"Again," a voice snapped behind him, "You're too slow."

Clint grit his teeth but followed Trickshot's words as he drew another bow from the quiver on his back. This time he didn't take his time. He pulled back the string and released, sending the arrow through the air. It seemed to curve slightly, adjusting the path until it hit the target again, but not completely in the bullseye. He flinched as he was hit, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. It wasn't a surprise but it sure hurt like a bitch.

"Don't. Miss," Trickshot snapped, "Again."

This was a normal occurrence for Clint. He would come out here with Trickshot to practice and end up leaving with enough bruises that he did end up getting very good at using stage makeup. It was harsh and sometimes CLint wondered if this was even right, but he endured it because it was producing results. And Clint was sixteen. There's no reason for him to fight back. This was tough love which is all he's ever known. Even his own father was an asshole who hurt him...toughening his skin. Clint kept at the training even when his head was pounding and his back hurt.

Eventually Trickshot nodded to himself and backed off. "Good. You're learning. Getting better. Now get going and relax for the rest of the night. We've got an early show."

Clint nodded, moving to gather his arrows. He hated this but it seems to work. And if he's going to be called the World's Greatest marksman...then he can't miss. Ever. And this is the price to pay for it, whether he likes it or not. Once he had his arrows, he headed back to the trailer he shared with Barney but spotted his brother in Swordsman's trailer, talking with the man. Clint was going to continue on his way when he noticed that Trickshot was entering the trailer as well. He frowned, wondering what they were up to. He sighed and moved to the trailer to get his brother and ask if he wanted to hang out for the evening.

But as he approached the door, he froze. He could hear them talking quietly and he did not like what he was hearing. At all.

"So we're really doing this tomorrow night then?" Barney whispered.

Trickshot snorted. "What Barton? Getting cold feet?"

Barney glared. "No. I just want to go over the plan one more time. So there is no mistakes."

"Yes we're doing this tomorrow," Swordsman cut in before the other two could get into it, "Barton you're the look out. You'll let us know if Carson or anyone else is coming while Trick and I get the money from the safe."

Clint felt his heart drop to his stomach as his eyes widened. They were planning to steal from Carson? The man took them in! Acted the part of a guardian and helped them over the past seven years. How could Barney even think of doing this! He swallowed back his anger and slowly backed away, being as quiet as he could be. He couldn't risk being discovered. If he was...would they hurt him? Ask him to join? Clint couldn't join them and he honestly wasn't even sure if Trick and Swordsman would harm him. Barney luckily would never hurt him. He was his brother.

When he was far enough away, he ran for the trailer and slipped inside, his heart pounding. He never noticed that Trickshot had noticed him slipping away.

HAWKEYE

Clint was anxious for the entire day as he waited to see if the group would do what they had planned. He still didn't want to believe Barney was doing this freely. Maybe the other two were forcing him? Or offering him something he couldn't refuse? He didn't want to think badly of his older brother. Barney was all he had. Clint went through several shows, wowing the audience with his death defying archery stunts and he couldn't help but feel Trickshot's eyes on him the whole time.

As if he knew Clint had overheard what he shouldn't have.

When his last show ended, Clint went to his trailer to pace, deciding to confront Barney about all of this. He needed to be sure that this was not what it seemed. It was wrong and Carson had been so kind to them. Clint knew that Barney considered him a bleeding heart and it's times like these that Clint himself sees it. He heard the door to the trailer open and turned sharply, seeing his brother.

"Barney," he sighed with relief. His brother was here...which means he's not going to do it, "Want to get some dinner?"

He wasn't sure how to broach the subject. He couldn't just come out and accuse his brother. That would put him on the defensive and a Barton on the defensive was not a very good thing. Nor was it easy to deal with.

Barney looked at Clint with narrowed eyes. "Were you spying on us?"

CLint almost sighed. Straight to it then. "I didn't mean to overhear, Barney. But you can't be seriously doing this! Carson...he's been nice to us! You shouldn't do it."

Barney let out a bitter laugh then glared at Clint. "How do you think we've had enough money to eat well and stuff? It's not because of your pathetic show. It's because of me and Swordsman. Trickshot. We're doing things to bring in extra money because Carson is selfish."

Clint shook his head in disbelief. "No. You can't be serious, Barney!"

"Why not join us, Clint?" Barney said suddenly, "You can be a lookout with me. Then we can make sure we get a good portion of the money."

Clint took a step back, shaking his head. "No way. This is wrong...you're stealing, Barney! That's illegal and just...it's not right! Not when Carson has been so nice to us."

"So nice?! Carson barely gives us any of the profits! He pockets so much of it and then gives the scraps and change to the performers first and then the workers second," Barney argued, "This is our chance to get our hard earned money!"

Clint took a step back. "No Barney. I...I won't do this. It's wrong."

He stared at his brother with wide innocent eyes. Barney sneered at him.

"Fine. Be a wimp and a cry baby," Barney snapped, "I'm doing this and you're not getting any of it. I'm done trying to take care of you."

Barney turned sharply to leave and Clint rushed forward, grabbing his arm. "Barney! Stop-"

Barney roughly removed his arm from Clint's grasp and made his escape. Clint stood there in shock, unsure of what to do. Barney's words had stung, mostly because Barney wasn't even acting like his brother at this point. How could this have all gone wrong? Clint couldn't let Barney do this. If his brother does this...it also affects Clint. He moved then, leaving the trailer. He thought of trying to stop them on his own but decided that he should just tell Carson. Maybe the man can talk sense into Barney.

But as Clint moved for Carson's trailer, he was grabbed from behind. He fought, eyes widening in betrayal as Trickshot dragged him away from the trailers and near the main road. The place where Swordsman and Barney were waiting. Clint opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could leave his lips, he was shoved hard to the ground.

"Oh Clint," Trickshot sighed, "You should have kept to yourself. This is not a very good situation to find yourself in."

"I…" Clint started, "I don't understand why you guys are doing this. I mean..it's wrong. Illegal!"

"You do what you can to survive, kid," Swordsman said in a bored tone, "Now I'm gonna offer you a chance. Do you want to join and get a cut?"

Barney scowled at the offer but didn't speak. Clint himself glared.

"No! I won't do this. I'm going to tell Carson what you're up to!" Clint threatened.

Trickshot shook his head in disappointment. "Wrong answer, Kid. Wrong answer…"

Clint was so busy watching Barney, pleading with him to agree and be on his side that he didn't see Swordsman move until it was too late. The man kicked Clint hard, sending him to the ground. Clint coughed, pain seizing through his body before another kick was delivered. Swordsman knelt beside Clint's curled body, and grabbed his blond hair, exposing his neck and face.

"Such a pity, Clint," Swordsman said as if disappointed, "You could have had so much potential. Both with us and with the carnival…"

Barney swallowed as a bad feeling settled in his gut.

"But you see...we can't let you get away with this. We can't risk you running to Carson or the cops...unfortunately this means I have to kill you," Swordsman said apologetically.

"And you survive this kid...we'll come for ya," Trickshot added, "No way in hell are we leaving you as a loose end."

Clint felt his blood run cold as he cut his eyes to Barney, almost silently begging him to stand up to the two men and save his life. But Clint felt his heart shatter as his brother crossed his arms and glared at him. Then before Clint even knew what was happening...he felt a strong, sharp pain in his abdomen as he was stabbed with a knife. Trickshot grabbed his legs and added slashes there for good measure before the two men picked Clint up and carried him to the shoulder of the road and just dumped him there in the grass.

As the two men left him there, Clint reached for Barney, pleading with his eyes for help. Then Clint's shattered heart wilted and died as his brother turned his back and followed the other two men and left him for dead.

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A/N: Review!


	3. Pt 1: Chapter 2

A/N: Now I have no idea how the criminal underworld works, or how IDs are made or how to even go about getting a fake one. So I've taken liberties. Enjoy!

 _Crossover: None_

 _Alias: Clinton Francis Barton_

 _Age: 16_

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PART 1: CARSON'S CARNIVAL OF WONDERS

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 ** _ChapterTwo_**

Clint blinked his eyes as he opened them, seeing a white ceiling and feeling pain and apprehension. He was still alive...somehow. He tried to move, but the action caused pain to course through his body and he groaned, his heart rate spiking and causing the machine in his room to start beeping. He looked around, realizing that not only was he alive but he was in a hospital. Which means someone found him and saved his life.

But that also means that Trickshot and Swordsman are going to come and finish him off if they find out.

Thinking about his two mentors-ex-mentors-causes his stomach to tighten. And his chest. Because it also makes him think of Barney and how his brother had betrayed him and didn't even seem to care that Clint was going to bleed out and die. How had this happened? When did his brother start to hate him?

He looked up as a woman entered the room with a kind smile. "Hello...are you in pain?"

She didn't speak his name and again Clint wondered what happened. Did she even know who he was? Maybe not...if she did, she'd know his age and Child Protective Services would have come. And Clint didn't want to go back to a stupid group home in Iowa. Or anywhere. He had tried it with Barney and it hadn't been a good place for them.

"Where...what happened?" he asked, his mind racing. They can't know he's only sixteen. He won't go back.

The nurse gave him a kind smile. "You were attacked somehow. They found you on the side of the road, nearly dead. You're in the hospital...Waverly General. Do you remember anything? Your name? Where you're from?"

Clint tried to pull on a mask. "I...my name is-"

He thought fast and said the first name that came to mind.

"William," he blurted, "William James. I...I was traveling with a job. And someone jumped me...took everything. My money, everything."

The nurse took pity. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Have you ever been fingerprinted or given blood? We can try and get information for you."

He shook his head honestly. "No...I was born at home and Ma and Pa never really took me to a doctor. And I've kept my head down. I was a good kid...never got into trouble."

She frowned in worry. "You've never had an ID?"

Clint knew he was lying but he couldn't be Clint. Not just because of what happened. But because he didn't want to be sent somewhere that he wouldn't be safe at. He needs to take care of himself.

"I'm eighteen," he lied, "I haven't had a chance to get one and since I don't have a car...I saw no reason to get anything at sixteen."

The nurse nodded, still unsure. "I'll speak to my charge nurse and then the officers that are here to speak with you, okay? We'll get you some answers."

As the nurse left, Clint panicked. The police would find out he's lying because he lied about who he is. He started to rip off everything, including the IV and pushed himself from the bed. His legs were a bit unsteady but after a few minutes he felt strong enough to move. He searched for his clothes and cursed, realizing they had those clothes. He couldn't leave in a hospital gown though. HE mentally told himself that he would swipe some clothing or scrubs from the hospital as he moves, anything to help him blend in.

His heart was pounding as he slipped out of the room, walking quickly for the stairs nearby. He slipped inside and started down the stairwell quickly, not wanting to take a chance of being discovered. He made it to the first floor and stepped out, seeing a few laundry baskets in the hall. He moved to one and grabbed a set of scrubs, quickly slipping them on as he moves. That must be Barton luck.

He pushed out the door into the warm air, eyes moving around in anxiety and fear. He was free but what if Trickshot or Swordsman knew he survived and were waiting to kill him? He needed to disappear somehow. But how? He'd need identification and everything. He knew there was a way to get it...but he wasn't sure how. He would need to figure out the right people to ask...and also the right way to ask the questions. Which could be dangerous as well. Criminals ask for new identification and stuff. And he wasn't a criminal. Just someone running for his life.

He managed to lift a wallet from someone, thankful that he had learned slight of hand. He removed the cash and dropped the rest of the wallet, having seen enough movies or something to know that cards and such can be tracked. Then he hopped a bus to downtown. There must be someone there who can help him. He just can't advertise that he has money. He doesn't want to lose it. He will need it to get a new ID and to also live on his own. He would need a career but had no idea what to do. For now he would search for someone to help him. He just had no idea where to start.

HAWKEYE

Clint moved into the club, easily bypassing security so he could enter. He had been on the streets trying to find someone to help him for three weeks. And not a single thing. Finally he decided to use a popular club and see what he could learn. There must be someone who knows something. But he needs to be careful. Do cops go undercover and search for people trying to falsify identification? What if he's caught? He pushed the worries aside as he reached the bar.

"Hey. Just a gin and coke," he said easily.

The bartender nodded, not seeing a band on the guy's wrist so he assumed he was overage. Clint soon had his drink and nursed it as his eyes moved. He saw many things that didn't help him. Drugs being exchanged for money, prostitutes-wait. Clint sat up straighter as he had an idea. A prostitute may know and may even set him up a meeting for a price. He finished his drink and moved to one of the girls that he had pin pointed. When her eyes landed on him, he saw them light up with interest. Clint wasn't stupid. He knew he was attractive.

"Hey handsome," she purred, "Want to have some fun with me?"

Clint didn't even blink and he was so proud of that, especially with how scantily clad she was. "I'm looking for information. Think you could help a guy out?"

He held up a fifty, hoping it would work. The girl tilted her head, considering and then grabbed the fifty. "What do you want?"

"I'm looking for someone who can make me a new identity. I'm hiding from people who want me dead because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Clint said, bending the truth a bit.

She bit her lip for a moment, thinking. "Wait."

Then she slipped away. Clint felt some of the tension leave his body. No doubt she knew someone...but then he started to feel his palms sweat and his heart rate increase. What if she was working with the cops? He's asking for something illegal. Then he noticed her coming back, pushing through the crowd, her blonde hair still pinned up without a hair out of place.

"Follow me," she said as she turned again, heading back the way she had come from.

Clint followed after her, releasing a breath. He noticed the club seemed to get darker and hefelt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He was being watched which means he was about to meet someone...dangerous? Connected? He came to a stop before a man who was dressed sharply and wearing quite a bit of gold.

"My girl here says you're looking for new ID," he drawled, sitting back as the prostitute sat next to him, "It won't be cheap. And if you don't have money, you'll owe me a favor of my choosing."

Clint nodded. "I'd need everything covered so that no one would realize I wasn't...who it says I am."

The man looked away, thinking. "How much you got? I charge five grand for the whole package."

Clint almost choked. That was far too much to spend...he didn't have that kind of money. At all. "And the favor?"

"I need someone taken care of. You do the job, and I'll make you a full set with some extras thrown in," he said.

Clint nodded, his stomach twisting. No doubt he meant that he needs someone killed. Could Clint do it? Just this once? He thought of Swordsman and the others and knew. He had to do something horrible to protect his life.

"Consider it done in exchange for an identification, passport, and new social security card."

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A/N: Review!


	4. Pt 1: Chapter 3

A/N: Warning, this chapter will contain Clint's first kill. It will haunt him for a while. It isn't graphic.

 _Crossover: None_

 _Alias: Clinton Francis Barton_

 _Age: 16_

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PART 1: CARSON'S CARNIVAL OF WONDERS

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 ** _Chapter Three_**

Clint was mentally kicking himself for this. Why did he agree to kill a man? Especially when he didn't even have a weapon? HE shook his head and moved to the pawnshop, not even sure he can get something. He needs a bow and arrows. That's his weapon of choice. He's comfortable with it. Not that he's comfortable with killing someone...but he doesn't have money. So he's between a rock and a hard place. He slipped into the shop, his eyes zeroing on the bows. Then he felt a small smile slip onto his lips.

Layaway.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked behind him.

Clint turned to him and gave him a smile, hoping he didn't look nervous. "Hey. I was wondering how much to put a bow on layaway? A recurve."

The man moved forward, looking at the bows. "Ten percent down. Any bow, including the compounds. What are you looking to do? Hunting? Target practice?"

Clint swallowed. "Hunting. Long distance of course."

The man nodded. "I'd suggest a compound bow then. Less weight on the draw but it packs a stronger punch."

Clint nodded. "I've never used one...how difficult is it to draw? Can I try?"

The man hesitated and then offered Clint the bow. "Are you familiar with bows?"

"Recurves."

Clint accepted the bow and looked it over. He felt a thrill go through him as he looked at the shiny, brand new bow. "What do I need to set up a layaway? And when could I bring it home?"

The man shifted. "Layaway would need to be set up first, and then it would need to be paid off before you can take the bow."

Clint mentally cursed. That wouldn't work for him. He needed it now. "Any other options? I was hoping to go hunting this weekend...new season and all that."

"I'm afraid not unless you want to go ahead and pay for it in full," the man said.

Clint nodded. "Thank you. I'll have to see if I can swing that."

The man nodded and slipped away, replacing the bow. Clint knew then that he would need to steal a gun or something. A bow. But it would need to be something easy to slip onto his person. He just needed a way to do this job and get the things he needed. Then he could find an honest job.

Like the army.

He left the shop soon after, trying to come up with some way to kill the man. But...what if he didn't need to use his bow or a gun? What if he made it look like an accident? Clint decided then to follow his...target and see where he goes. What he does. Will there be a way to make his death happen? Clint had strong arms. There is a possibility that he could beat the man to death, but that didn't really sit well either. But he needed the papers so that he could start over. He wouldn't feel safe until this was done.

Clint got lucky that night. He managed to see his target slip out of a club to smoke in the alley out back. He took note of the two other men who were watching the alley, bodyguards no doubt. Clint wasn't going to pass this up. He could take those two out and then take out the last man. It would be over quick. Clint released a breath and then moved, dropping down from the fire escape. HE landed on the first man and managed to find a gun as it slid out onto the floor. Clint grabbed the gun quickly and without even thinking shot the man he had dropped dead. Then he turned the gun on his target, forgetting about the other man.

He pulled the trigger and killed the other man just as the forgotten guard pulled out his own gun and shot Clint. Clint grunted as he watched his target fall and turned, running out of the alley. He heard the steps behind him as stumbled, trying to run away. He knew he couldn't stop. Stopping would just end up killing him...or at least the man pursuing him would. Clint skidded around the corner, almost falling to the ground. More shots followed and he felt fear seep into his bones and his hands began to shake. But he held fast to the gun he had grabbed. It was his only weapon.

HE cut down another alley, pushing his legs to move faster. He turned to look behind him and saw that the man hadn't gotten there just yet. So he dived behind some dumpsters, still shaking slightly. He pressed back against the wall, trying to slow his breathing. He heard the runner slow, and chanced a peek to see what the man was doing. The man was looking through the alley, a gun pointed and ready to shoot. Clint held his breath, waiting and preying that the man would leave without finding him.

Clint wasn't sure how long he waited there, but eventually the man turned and left, grumbling and pulling out his phone to make a call. As Clint was left alone, he slouched and grimaced, a hand pressed against his side. Luckily he thinks it was only a flesh wound-a lot of blood but not life threatening. He gave it some time before he slipped back out and slowly walked the opposite way of the gunman. He had some papers to collect.

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A/N: Review!


	5. Part 2: The Hurt Locker

A/N: I decided to keep up with the whole breaks between parts. This starts the crossovers, the first being The Hurt Locker. It will be loosely based on it since I need this to tie into The Bourne Legacy. So no ex wife, no infant son...but most everything will be close to the same. That being said, I am not going to sit here and watch the movie, frame by frame, and transcript the movies. I'll write my own thing and keep the major events current.

 _Crossover: The Hurt Locker_

 _Alias: Clinton Francis Barton_

 _Age: 17_

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PART 2: The Hurt Locker

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A/N: Please review! I've been on a roll and hope to continue this. But there is a chance that the next update will not be until next Monday at the latest.


	6. Pt 2: Chapter 1

A/N: And this begins the crossovers. The first one is the Hurt Locker and will cover the important part of Barton's time in the army. This will lead into the next crossover. Seamlessly. As always, please review. And if you have any crossover requests, I'll grant it if possible.

 _Crossover: The Hurt Locker x The Avengers_

 _Alias: Kenneth Kitsom_

 _Age: 19_

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PART 2: THE HURT LOCKER

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 ** _Chapter Four (3 Years Later)_**

Clint Barton-Now Kenneth Kitsom-sat staring at his equipment. He had made his first kill nearly three years ago to the day and since then...he has killed others. Not premeditated, but to survive. He had joined the army the moment he had that identification and managed to get through basic even if he struggled with the ASVAB and several other tests that they had him take. But he had done it and even managed to work his way onto a bomb squad. Clint wanted to slip by unseen but Kenneth enjoyed everything about being a team leader on an EOD squad.

As of this year he had nearly 390 bombs to his name and quite the reputation. But he was also considered a bit of an asshole as well. But that was why he moved on from squads after a tour of duty. Clint didn't want to risk any attachments or to make tensions run so high for so long. That could be dangerous and cost the lives of people around him. And Clint already had blood on his hands.

"KEnneth Kitson?" a voice asked from behind him.

Clint stopped his game, pausing it as he turned. "Yeah?"

The soldier was tall and dark skinned. He also seemed to carry himself stiffly as if he wasn't about to trust Clint with anything, let alone his teammates.

"I'm Sam Wilson here to welcome you to Camp Victory-"

"Victory?" Clint cut him off, "I thought I was sent to Liberty?"

Sam gave a short laugh. "Yeah well we changed it last week. Victory sounds better. Now come on. You might as well meet the team."

Clint nodded as he stood, abandoning his game. "Sure. just give me a hand with this right here..."

Sam blinked as he watched Clint (from now on Clint will be referred to as Kenneth) grab onto the plywood covering the large window. "You know that's there in case a mortar goes off right? To stop shrapnel from crashing in here and killing you."

Kenneth raised a brow. "The way I see it is, if it doesn't come through the window it will come through the roof. Then we're still dead."

Sam moved to Kenneth and helped him rip the plywood off and raised a brow as the other man sighed happily, resting against the window in the afternoon sun.

"Sunlight. We all could use some sunlight," Kenneth sighed, "So that team? Care to whisk me away now?"

Sam nodded and turned, walking out of the building. Kenneth followed, glad to be opening yet another chapter in his life. He was still alive and he was still hidden from those who would seek to have him hurt or killed. He really couldn't ask for more.

HAWKEYE

"Aren't you glad the army has all these tanks parked here? Just in case the Russians come and we have to have a big tank battle?" Owen remarked, glancing at Kitsom for a moment.

"I'd rather be on the side with the tanks," Sam snorted, shaking his head, "Just in case, than not have them…"

"Yeah but they don't do anything. I mean, anyone comes alongside a humvee, we're dead. Anybody even looks at you funny, we're dead. How's a fucking tank supposed to stop that?"

Kenneth managed not to react, although he did find the conversation a bit amusing. These boys had no idea. He's seen tanks in action and it just doesn't phase him anylonger. He's seen humvees explode, and civilians fall down, covered in their own blood. He's seen hell and lived to talk about it. Or have dreams about it really. He chooses not to talk about it.

"Would you shut the fuck up, Owen?" Sam snapped, getting annoyed, "Please?"

"Sorry...just trying to scare the new guy!" Owen grinned.

Kenneth shook his head. "Not much scares me here in the desert any longer. Besides. I like tanks. They have big guns."

Soon they arrive at the small town, seeing other soldiers evacuating civilians from where the bomb is supposed to be waiting for their team to stumble across it. The convoy comes to a stop and Kenneth slips out, carrying his rifle as his eyes take in his surroundings. It's quiet and many eyes are watching them move, mostly in curiosity. They meet up with another soldier, who instructs them that there is a bomb there in the middle of the street. It's too quiet for there not to be.

Kenneth steps forward and raises a hand to shield himself from the sun. He looked around, trying to see if his gut is right and that there is a dangerous bomb there waiting to either explode and kill or be disarmed. He turns back to his team.

"Get the suit ready," he says, "I'm going in."

A few minutes later, Kenneth is suited up and walking towards the bomb. He ignores the comm chatter, needing to focus on his task instead-despite knowing that it would both drive Sam crazy and piss him off. Kenneth makes quick work of the bomb, disarming it easily. He stands, waving a hand to give them the all clear.

But that is when he notices the secondary wire.

Kenneth drops his hand and calls out over the comm. "Hang on a minute guys...there's a secondary wire. Give me a minute…."

He starts to carefully pull it up, following the line along the dirt. Kenneth swore his fingers burned in anticipation as he began to sweat in the suit, wondering if this would be it. Woudl this be what finally kills Clint Barton? Soon, Kenneth uncovers six more bombs and lets out a low whistle.

"Man. These guys aren't playing around," he mused and began to disarm the bombs one at a time.

He wiped at his brow, trying to stay focused as he snipped wires and shifted in the dirt. His eyes caught movement out of the corner and he glanced up to see a man moving. He narrowed his eyes, something in his gut telling him that this man was the bomber. When Kenneth disarmed the last bomb, the man stopped on the ground floor and stared. Kenneth grinned at him as he waved the bomb trigger mechanism and raised a brow. The man turned sharply and fled.

Kenneth stood then, moving back to the team since he was done with his job. He could see Sam Wilson's eyes burning into him, not pleased with the way that Kenneth had ignored the comm and acted like he was on his own without any help in the field. Ken moved to the vehicle and grabbed a bottle of water, downing it. Sam caught up with him there and gave him a stern, disappointed look.

"The point of a comm is to maintain communication, Kitsom," he said seriously, a sharp edge to his words, "You're not a solo act. Teamwork is important."

"Yeah, whatever wilson," Kenneth said stiffly.

Wilson sighed in annoyance and moved, leaving him there. Sam was sure of one thing one hundred percent. He hated Kenneth Kitsom.

HAWKEYE

Kenneth slipped out of the bunk house into the warm night air. It wasn't as hot as it usually was, at least during the day, but was nothing like Iowa winter mornings. Kenneth took a seat near the barracks, staring out ahead as he held a bottle of water. So much had brought him here. First there was the circus, then Barney's betrayal, and then finally the choices Clint was forced to make when he had no other options. Thinking of Barney made Clint wonder what had happened to his brother. Was he still with the others? Or has he moved on to do something on his own...what if he was still a criminal and in danger.

Clint sighed at the thought.

He didn't want to think that he was the only one of of his family to make something of himself. And that fact scared him...because what if it was all a lie? What if Clint really was just getting by on empty dreams and a broken sense of fulfillment?

* * *

A/N: Review!


	7. Pt 2: Chapter 2

A/N: Now this contains some dialogue from the Hurt Locker. So it's not mine. Only borrowed. And remember Kenneth is Clint. I'm kind of interchanging the names depending on who the sentence centers around.

 _Crossover: The Hurt Locker x The Avengers_

 _Alias: Kenneth Kitsom_

 _Age: 19_

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PART 2: THE HURT LOCKER

* * *

 ** _Chapter Five_**

Clint stood in front of the mirrors in the latrine, shaving his face as he worked on waking up fully. Disarming those seven bombs had been just the day before and he was ready to brave a new day. He didn't even look up when Wilson stepped out of a stall with a towel over his shoulder but noticed when the other man picked up a tooth brush and such. He felt his eyes on him, and Clint tried his best not to flinch.

"I don't appreciate you not following the rules, Kitsom," Wilson said stiffly, "I mean they are there for a reason. To protect us and keep us communicating. You ignored us and that doesn't fly with me, man."

Clint sighed and turned to Wilson. "Look I work better alone with this. I mean...you need to trust your team and frankly I still don't know you guys. And I doubt you automatically trust me so I don't get myself killed and you guys worry about each other. At least until I can trust you and you can trust me. Because once you trust me, you'll realize that I trust myself and know my limits."

Wilson glared at Kenneth and didn't get a chance to even speak more as the man walked out, stopping any further conversation. He sighed in annoyance and stalked out of the latrine. That Kitsom was really getting on his last nerve.

They were driving to a nearby town where they had a call that a bomb was planted in a car. Kenneth was quite as he sat in the humvee, blinking slowly. The others were conversing around him, and luckily he wasn't being forced into it like the had tried before. No doubt they learned that he didn't want to make small talk. At least not yet.

"Let's go, move!," Wilson yelled, waving a hand at the people around the humvee, making it difficult to maneuver through the crowds, "Shit, Get out of the way. Move!"

Soon they slowed and as Kenneth climbed out of the humvee, he took note of the UN officers already evacuating the civilians in the area. As they approached, Kenneth took some speed to his step and reached the officer first.

"Hello," Kenneth said as he reached the officer, looking around, "Where is it?"

"It's behind the wall," the man said, looking around worriedly, stress making his eyes crinkle.

"All right! See any wires? Any smoke?" he prodded.

"No, I didn't look-" The UN officer started.

"So, how do you know it's a bomb?" Kenneth wondered, raising a brow from beneath his helmet.

"The car has been parked illegal. The suspension is sagging. There's definitely something heavy in the trunk."

"Right. So, why don't you walk over there and peak inside and tell me what you see," Kenneth said, looking completely serious.

"You want me to go close to it?" The officer said with an incredulous voice.

"Yeah!" Kenneth answered with his arms crossing across his chest.

"No-no, I don't-"

"I'm kidding. Shit…" Kenneth said chuckling.

He turned to his team and nodded. "I'm going in. Suit me up, boys…."

When Kenneth had the suit on, including the comm headphones, he started to walk towards the car that was the supposed bomb. Clint would love it if the bomb was not even a bomb but here in Iraq...that was very unlikely. But as he reached the car, he saw something heading for it.

"Shit!" he yelled, turning and running from the car just before it caught fire.

Clint stumbled slightly from the force, mentally thanking any god that was listening that it hadn't exploded the bombs. He frowned and moved to the car again, checking the outside of the car before moving to the trunk. HE tried to pry it open with a crowbar but it wouldn't budge. He started to kick the trunk, hoping to trigger it to open a few times. When it opened and he saw the inside, he stared in shock and dropped the crowbar.

"Shit," Kenneth sighed, "Let's go, guys. Get this done."

"I got top cover-" One of the men from Kenneth's team said, standing to move.

"That's a negative, specialist. Eldridge, you stay with me. Wilson, you take top cover," Clint called through the comm and began to undo the velcro, straps, and zippers.

"What's he doing?" Sam asked in surprise and horror, seeing Kenneth removing the suit.

"I-I don't know," Eldridge said, then leaned over the wall enough to allow his voice to carry to Kitsom, "Kitsom! What are you doing?"

"There's enough bang in there to send us all to Jesus. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die comfortable.I need my kit and my cans."

"What's going on down there, Eldridge?" Wilson called out again.

"I'm getting his kit and his cans. Cover me, please."

Wilson cursed, raising the rifle to provide cover, silently cursing Kitsom for making this even more difficult. Removing that suit is a fool idea. It's for his protection in more ways than just the bomb exploding!

"Kit and cans!" Eldridge called, tossing them.

Clint moved, grabbing them all and focusing on the car, trying to find the wiring and where it was leading to. "Got a Lot of deck cord, electrical...I'm looking for this initiating system. Well, it's not in the back seat…I don't think….."

Clint began to use his knife, ripping open the back seat and checking the seams and stuffing. He found nothing and sighed.

"All right, It's not in the back seat….Got a young man on the roof, your 9:00, keep an eye on him," Clint said without looking.

"Roger that," Eldridge said, shifting so he could get a better look.

"It's not in the front seat. It's not in the door. Not on the floors. Not in the glove box…." Clint muttered.

"If you haven't found it yet, it's probably under the car," Wilson offered.

"Yeah, no wire leads under... the car. It's all in here somewhere…" Clint said from almost inside of the trunk as he traced the wires back there.

"Hey, Wilson?" Eldridge called, voice almost weary.

"Yeah?" Sam said, glancing at Eldridge's form.

"You got eyes on some guy, with a video camera?"

"No, Where?"

"He's right at my 12:00, you see him? He's pointing the fucking thing at me."

"Shit...Negative, I don't see him."

"Wilson. He's right at my 12:00, look! 12:00!" Eldridge insisted, watching as Wilson turned, finally spotting the man.

"Roger that, I got him…." Wilson added, narrowing his eyes and training the gun on the man.

"Getting ready to put me on YouTube," Eldridge joked.

"Little shady…" Wilson muttered, "Yeah, he Looks shady. Keep an eye on him for me would you?"

"Yes sir. What is the play? What should I do?" Eldridge asked, unsure.

"Be smart. Make a good decision, over," Wilson said, turning his attention back to Kitsom.

"Got more wire...Leads fucking nowhere. Fuck!" Kenneth snarled, smacking the

"Hey, James, how you doin?" Wilson asked, already knowing that this is taking far too long.

"I'm wonderful, How are you?" Clint said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"You know, we've been here a while...We need to get out of here soon."

"Uh-huh," Clint muttered, removing the door panels to check for wiring.

"We got a lot of eyes on us, James. We need to get out of here."

"Roger that, I might figure this out."

"James, we need to get out of here...James, do you copy?"

"Fuck it, I get it. Fuck me," Clint snapped as he ripped off the headphones and tossed them aside.

"Hey, how's it looking in there, soldier?" Wilson asked over the comm to their teammate that was working to clear civilians.

"All clear," was the affirmative.

Wilson released a breath, some tension leaving his shoulders, "James, the evac is complete. We can leave. Let the engineers handle this mess-"

"We moving?" Eldridge asked.

"That's affirmative."

Clint frowned as he removed the radio from the car and found extra wiring. He tugged on one, and the windshield wipers turned on. He blinked in confusion and surprise.

"Interesting…."

He started to separate the wires, finally finding the one that would detonate the bombs. He pulled on it, making sure it did lead to the trunk and nodded to himself when he found it did.

"Bingo," he breathed and started to cut the wires one at a time and with careful precision.

"What's up with James? He's not answering," Wilson groaned in annoyance.

"Yeah, I think he removed his headset," Eldridge grimaced.

Wilson snapped, "Well, will you tell him to put his radio back on, please?"

"Hey, James! Sergeant Sanborn is asking if you'll please put your headset back on."

Clint rolled his eyes and raised a hand outside of the car, flipping him off. Eldridge grimaced and said into his comm, "Uh... that's a negative. That, yeah, that's not gonna happen...Shit!I got eyes on three guys at the Minaret at 6:00."

Clint moved from inside the car and opened the hood, hoping to get at the trigger mechanism easier from there.

"What the hell is he doing?" Wilson asked, frowning as he noticed Kitsom.

"I don't know what the fuck he's doing! Looks like, he's checking the oil," Eldridge called, a bit worried himself.

"Shit. They're communicating with your cameraman," Wilson said, after glancing at the man they had been watching. This is real bad, man. Get behind the Jersey barrier."

"I can't see James from here," Eldridge said, but moved as he was told to do. Get down now, Kitsom!"

"We can go! Bastard….We're done. Sanborn, let's get out of here. Woo...That was good," Kenneth gasped, the adrenaline flowing through his body as he grinned, toying with a piece of the now dead bomb.

He caught his breath before he started to walk back, the sun beating down on his shoulders. His boots felt heavy as he walked but the adrenaline from the bomb work was still coursing through his veins and giving him something similar to a high. Not that he's ever taken anything hard.

"Hey, Kitsom!" Wilson called as he approached Kenneth.

"What?"

"Never turn your headset off again."

With that Wilson pushed past Clint, knocking his shoulder a bit as he did so. Clint shook his head, already pushing the event and altercation from his mind.

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A/N: Review!


	8. Pt 2: Chapter 3

A/N: Now this contains some dialogue from the Hurt Locker. So it's not mine. Only borrowed. And remember Kenneth is Clint. I'm kind of interchanging the names depending on who the sentence centers around. And also now Aaron is Clint. Enjoy.

 _Crossover: The Hurt Locker x The Avengers_

 _Alias: Kenneth Kitsom_

 _Age: 19_

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PART 2: THE HURT LOCKER

* * *

 ** _Chapter Six_**

Clint knew they only had a few more weeks left before they would be sent back home. But what was home for clint? An alley near the fire escape between fifth street and Main? Or was it that homeless shelter Downtown? Clint had nowhere new to go and no home. He was still young and he's surprised that no one figured out he was lying about who he was and how old he was. Kenneth Kitsom doesn't exist but slowly Clint had been becoming him more and more. He was cocky, a loner, and believed that he knew best when it came to dismantling these bombs. But Clint was smart and not blind. He knew this could get him killed one day.

Clint felt that he and the team had been on a tight wire that was bound to snap, but luckily after helping another humvee with a flat tire and getting into a firefight, they seemed to be getting along better. Wilson seemed more inclined to talk with him and learn about him and Clint allowed him inside to a point. It's not like Clint had any family or friends to talk about back home. But they all had the war in common and Clint didn't mind joining in to play video games or drinking and wrestling with them (they said if he's old enough to go to war and diffuse bombs, he's old enough to drink and be merry).

But today they were on their way to another bomb threat. When they arrive, Clint frowns seeing that there is only one man standing there in the plaza. He releases a breath and moves from the humvee carefully and approaches one of the other soldiers, who is there to translate.

"What's going on?" he wondered in worry, eyes going back to the man.

"He says he has a bomb on his chest but he doesn't want to die. He can't get it off," the translator tells Clint.

Clint frowned, crossing his arms. "Alright...well I'll suit up and see what we can do to remove it or dismantle it."

The translator turns to the man and relates the message. The man nods, his whole body shaking in fear. Clint turns and allows the group to suit him up, and he doesn't fight it. He considered removing the suit and just going in as is, but he didn't want to take a chance of dying. Not when they are so close to finally going home. Clint turns to the translator and tells him to have the man get on his knees with his hands on his head.

Clint releases a breath, his heart pumping as he approaches the man. Clint carefully opens the man's shirt and groans.

"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me...there's at least...several pounds of C4 attaches to steel bars and padlocked shut. I need bolt cutters!"

Clint immediately starts to try and get to the wires to clip them, but he can't get around the steel bars. IT's when he is doing this that he sees a timer with only two minutes left.

"Oh fuck me," he groaned, "It's on a timer! Hurry up! I've got two minutes to get it off of him!"

The civilian is pleading for his life, saying that he has a family and doesn't want to die but Clint ignores him and the interpreter so that he can focus on trying to take care of this bomb. Wilson arrives and offers the bolt cutters. Clint tries to use it and grunts from the effort.

"Fuck. I can't cut it!" he snapped.

He tried on each one, using all his strength. Finally one of the locks snapped but Clint glances at the timer and hisses in displeasure. He looks the man in the eyes, horror and despair reflecting between them.

"I'm sorry!" Clint gasps, "There's too much! I can't do it! I can't do it!"

The man pleads again, diving for Clint to grab him and ask him to help him. Clint stumbles back and turns, yelling, "Clear the area! Get back! Get back!"

Clint takes off at a run, but isn't fast enough. The bomb goes off, killing the man. Clint is hit by the blast and flies through the air, landing hard and hitting his head inside of the helmet very hard. He loses consciousness soon after.

HAWKEYE

Clint bliniked his eyes as he regained conciousness. The world was spinning and he didn't know where he was. His thoughts felt...slow. Almost nonexistant. What had happened? The last thing he remembers...there was an explosion? He blinked several times, his head hurting.

"Mr Kitsom! You're awake," a nurse said quietly and kindly as she entered the room.

He was confused. Who was Kitsom? Clint's name is Clint Barton. Did he change his name? There was something there but it wasn't coming to him. It was like there was a wall blocking those memories. He watched as the nurse took his readings, calling them vitals. She looked him over in worry.

"Mr Kitsom, can you tell me where you are? What is the last thing you remember?" she asked carefully, her eyes gentle.

Clint blinked and decided not to mention that he couldn't remember being Kitsom. "I...I am..a hospital?"

His voice sounded meek to his ears, almost nonexistant and unsure.

"And I...I don't...an explosion?" he tried.

The nurse nodded and Clint was suddenly struck with the fear that they would send him away once he was better. Clint just wanted to belong somewhere. He didn't want to go to some group home or back on the streets. He wants purpose and a home. A family and friends if he can ever have them. Soon the nurse slipped away and returned with a doctor who talked more with him and Clint tried so hard to keep up but...he was just confused. Lost. His thoughts were jumbled in his head and he couldn't make sense of them. By the end of the day he was going through a big machine that was white and circular, and somehow deep down he knew they were taking pictures of his brain but again the words couldn't comprehend further than that.

Finally after what felt like weeks, Clint was pushed into a simple room, sitting in a wheelchair with his bandages and such covering his burns. He looked up, seeing a man already waiting for him.

"Hello Mr. Kitsom," the man said, "Let's see. Kenneth Kitsom. Officially KIA by a suicide bomber."

For a moment Clint had a flash of a man desperately pleading with him to save him...and deadbolts. Explosives. But Clint was a bit confused. How could he be KIA? He was sure that was killed in action...he's alive right here. Breathing and hurting.

The man looked up at Clint and leaned back. "Tell me Kenneth. Are you okay?"

Clint blinked, trying to process the words. But he couldn't. He was still stuck on the fact he was apparently dead on paper. "Yes sir."

"You don't look okay….you look like you're in pain."

"Yes sir," Clint said again, dipping his head in shame.

"That's okay, Kenneth. Do you want to serve your country?" the man asked kindly.

Clint swallowed. "Yes sir...if I still can."

"There's a program," he said, "It's called Outcome. You'd work for us and get a new name...a new identity. We can heal you and make your mind better than ever. You are aware of the brain damage you suffered when the bomb went off?"

Clint lost himself in the words, unsure of what else was said. "I..I don't understand."

"That's okay, Kenneth," the man said in a soothing voice, "Do you want to be part of something to help our country?"

Clint bit his lip. "If I say yes...can I stay?"

"Yes, Kenneth. You can stay," he answered.

Clint nodded then, ducking his head. The man smiled.

"Good, Kenneth. But your name is different now. You'll be known as Aaron Cross."

"Aaron Cross?" Clint asked, frowning as he tested the name.

"Yes. Aaron Cross," he said with a smile, "And we will take care of you. Reverse that brain issue and make sure you're in the best shape of your life. We'll give you purpose again...Aaron."

"Aaron," Clint repeated, his words quiet.

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A/N: Review!


	9. Part 3: The Bourne Legacy

A/N: This begins the Bourne Legacy. Now this will go past the original storyline for the movie, ending with Agent Phil Coulson finding Clint. Clint is now known as Aaron Cross and unlike the past part, he will think of himself as Aaron. That's part of the conditioning he went through. I am also taking liberties, which you will see in the first chapter. Clint/Aaron's story doesn't start in Alaska. It starts a bit sooner than that. And I do have a plan for Marta Shearing in place already. Enjoy!

* * *

 _Crossover: Bourne Legacy x The Avengers_ **  
**

 _Alias: Aaron Cross_

 _Age: 19-25_

* * *

 **PART 3: The Bourne Legacy**

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A/N: This will be extremely AU. I'm taking liberties and making my own backstory for Clint since he's never had his own origins movie. I will update once a week, every Monday night. But if I don't, I didn't have muse to continue or needed more time to research. But please review. Reviews give me even more incentive to do this. As mentioned, this is very AU and loosely follows the comics and movies. Both MCU and other movies.

* * *

A/N: Please review! I've been on a roll and hope to continue this. But there is a chance that the next update will not be until next Monday at the latest.


	10. Pt 3: Chapter 1

A/N: Again, the plot and any dialogue that may be from the movie is not mine. Enjoy.

 _Crossover: The Bourne Legacy x The Avengers_

 _Alias: Aaron Cross_

 _Age: 19-25_

* * *

PART 3: The Bourne Legacy

* * *

 ** _Chapter Seven_**

Clint Barton, now going by the name Aaron Cross, walked across the road to the truck waiting and started to place his things inside the bed. He heard steps behind him but didn't turn around. He wasn't in the best mood, not liking the fact that he had taken out a building with innocent civilians inside. No one was supposed to be in there and it bothered him immensely.

"Cross, I need to speak with you," the voice said from behind him.

"With all due respect, sir, now is not the best time. In 20 minutes, this place is going to fall apart," Aaron said stiffly, ignoring the man as much as he was able to.

"I'm aware of that, I'll take the chance. We need to talk. I need you to stop what you're doing and turn around. That's an order."

"We got screwed on the intel, okay? Nobody knew those people were in there. It would be perfectly normal for a person to have doubts about the morality of what we just asked you to do."

"Is that a question, sir?" Aaron asked sharply.

"No, it's not. Tune in to what I'm trying to say to you. Do you know what a sin-eater is? That's what we are. We are the sin-eaters. It means that we take the moral excrement that we find in this equation and we bury it down deep inside of us so that the rest of our cause can stay pure.  
That is the job. We are morally indefensible and absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"

"Will that be all?"

"Stitch that up. I'm gonna put you on a plane to Yemen in six hours."

"I'll be ready."

When Aaron Cross returned to the mainland, he had more questions than answers. He made his way, as ordered, to his physical evaluation and thought of the doctor that would take his blood and check him over physically. She was attractive with long brown hair and kind brown eyes. He liked her and knew it wasn't just a professional like. He slipped into the room, and took his seat, removing his shirt as he would be asked to do. He didn't bother with the gown, seeing no reason to cover up when he was still wearing his pants.

The doctor stepped inside, clipboard in hand and took his chem case, setting it on top of her clipboard. She checked him over initially before starting the main examination. She took some steri strips and placed them on the side of his head over a fresh cut.

"There we go. May I see the hand, please? Oh, that has healed well. Any diminished sensation?" Dr Shearing asked politely.

"Nope. Are you trying to put me down, doc?"

"I'm afraid there's been a few gaps in your sample deliveries, so...we need a full work-up this visit."

"Another one? Why? Is it 'cause I missed a blood drop? So, how do you think it works, doc? That we can just call a timeout? Everything stops while you pull your samples?" Aaron asked, a bit exasperated.

"Why don't you lie down and relax?" Dr Shearing told him, trying to calm him down.

"Yeah. What do you think that we do out there?" Aaron insisted, not laying down.

"Okay, that's enough information," Dr Shearing said, moving to get a sedative to calm him down.

"No, I...Well, you're just a doctor," Aaron said, a bit bitterly.

"You know we're on camera," she warned him.

"Really? Is that why you make such an attractive appearance?" Aaron said, feeling the prick of the needle.

"Okay, why don't you count backward from 100, please?" Dr Shearing requested, holding him upright so that when he lost consciousness, he wouldn't topple over.

Aaron sighed, knowing he couldn't push this anymore. He started to count back from 100 in German, eyes staring straight ahead. As he lost consciousness, he knew that he would end up getting sent away for some special training.

Aaron Cross allowed the cold water to shock his body and cause it to go numb. He floated there, trying to keep his mind clear and not think about the fact that his body temperature was lowering further and further. Or about the fact he was even here because he had asked far too many questions during his physical. Eventually, when the cold water became more than too much, he swam to shore. As he walked to the thermal blanket and grabbed it, he looked around at the snowy landscape with the mountains in the distance. He walked to the fire he had burning, and stood before it, wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders, trying to calm his shaking limbs.

He'd been in the program for almost two years now, and going back to the way he was honestly terrified him. He could live without the endurance and strength but not the mental capacity. The little blue pills returned to him what he had lost because of that stupid bomb. He no longer took minutes to think before speaking and he also did not need psychological counseling now. He was just as before-no. He was better. Sure he could run fast and hard, and keep moving for periods of time, but now he can also think freely and do equations in his head that were difficult before.

Which is why he wished he had his bow still. He'd be an even better shot now.

He pushed all thoughts of his bow from mind, instead thinking about the program itself. Yes he was grateful to them but since Jason Bourne had broken free and evaded death and capture...Aaron was starting to wonder if he should take after the man's example. Something about this program wasn't right. You couldn't ask questions and Aaron wasn't even sure if every man or woman he's killed has deserved it.

He knew these thoughts were dangerous, which is how he ended up here in the middle of nowhere, Alaska.

Soon he set up his camp for the night, making his bed near the fire for both warmth and safety. He laid back, eyes watching the woods for the wolves he had heard earlier. His patience didn't disappoint as they appeared outside of the woods, growling lowly at him. He yelled their way, throwing things until they ran off, and he soon relaxed enough to sleep lightly. When the sun rose, Aaron was already on his way across the mountain pass and heading for his contact's location. While on the way he stopped, and removed his pills, setting them inside his shoe so that he could try and get more. If he is going to leave, then he needs to get as many as he can. He would worry about running out later.

He pushed on, heading for the mountains as his mind wandered to the doctor who had been giving the...assets check ups. He liked her and always tried his best to talk to her and get her to let her guard down. But she was locked up tight. He couldn't even get her to laugh...although he was proud of himself that one day when he got a smile. But she always quickly backtracked and became overly professional whenever that happened.

As he was crossing the mountains, he checked on his pills one last time before dropping the pill case down a ravine. It would look better if he didn't have it when he tells his contact he needs pills. He heard the wolves again and grimaced as he looked behind himself, before he pushed on. He needed to reach his contact by nightfall. Sleeping on the mountains like this wouldn't be a smart idea. He may freeze to death, as there isn't much cover to protect himself.

Soon he reached the woods that would lead him to the camp, and picked up his pace. He passed a tree and saw that a man was hiding up there and didn't even acknowledge him.

"Are you going to pretend you don't know I'm here?" The man asked, a bit annoyed.

"I was just trying to be polite," Aaron said with a shrug as he turned. He had heard the man jump down to the ground.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon. What did you do? Did you come over the mountain?" he asked with a frown as he fell into step with Aaron.

"Don't they forward my position?" Aaron asked, frowning at him. What did it matter if he came over the mountains?

"You beat the record by two days."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," the man said as he lead the way to the clearing where the cabin was waiting. He glanced back at Aaron, "You didn't know there was a record?

"No. It never came up. It wasn't your record, was it?" Aaron asked a bit smugly.

"No one comes over the mountain," he said sternly with a glare.

"Yeah, well, I did. I'm Aaron, by the way."

The contact rounded on Aaron, a suspicious look in his eyes. "Why did you do that? If you weren't on the clock, why take the risk? Why take the mountain?"

"I lost my chems. I dropped my program kit, that's why," Aaron said, a bit defensive.

"All right. Protocol is for me to call in your arrival. They're going to want a sample pick-up. You got blood work, right?" He asked as he opened the door and stepped inside, leaving the door open for Aaron.

"I owe today," Aaron said as he closed the door behind him.

"All right, pull it now. The drone takes about three hours to get up here so I'll get some food started. You can dry your shit," he practically ordered as he started to grab things in the kitchen.

"So, look...I got a real problem, here. I came over that mountain because I lost my chems," Aaron reiterated.

"What are you taking?"

"My daily? Phys meds, 250 green. Cognitive programs, 400 blue."

"Define 'lost'," the contact said with a frown.

"Lost. Fell into the rocks off a 20-meter cliff. Lost."

"How is that possible?"

"Look, I've had a pack of wolves on my ass since I left the drop, okay? I thought I lost them, but they came at me at the river, so I took the ledge up to the ravine to try to rally out the night. I chose wrong. I got caught out in the open, I couldn't climb. I couldn't make a fire, my hands got stiff. I dropped them," Aaron said sternly, trying not to sound too desperate.

"You're going to have to write that up."

"So, is that yours?" Aaron asked, noticing the blood work on the table.

"Hmm?" he said, glancing at Aaron.

"The blood work? That's yours, isn't it? You're not a contact, are you? Look, I'm sorry to call you out like that. It's just that...I have never met anybody in the program before. Never, nobody. You're the...I know you have some extra chems here."

"I'm not supposed to ration you out until you leave tomorrow."

"Yeah," Aaron said, almost sighing.

"Did you chem today?"

"Green only. I haven't had a blue in 32 hours," Aaron lied. The other man grimaced and sighed, nodding as he stepped away from the stove.

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A/N: Review!


	11. Pt 3: Chapter 2

A/N: I know it's been too long….assuming anyone is even reading this? Anyways my computer crashed and broke and burned. I had to build a new one, which meant waiting for parts. Then school started again and that's my first priority.

Anyways, here's the next chapter. Review if you can. I love to see if people are reading this.

 _Crossover: The Bourne Legacy x The Avengers_

 _Alias: Aaron Cross_

 _Age: 19-25_

* * *

PART 3: The Bourne Legacy

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Aaron didn't feel bad about lying to the man. Yes, he had his medications as needed, but if he ever wanted to get out and disappear, much like Jason Bourne, then he would need supplies until he can figure out how to make the changes permanent. There's no way in hell that Aaron was going to risk being reverted back to the brain damaged soldier he had been. He couldn't give up being smart again. He couldn't.

"Your friends are here," Peter called as he stood at the door, looking outside.

"I know," Aaron said, hearing the howls.

"Don't you think that's strange? The wolves? They don't do that. They don't track people," Peter said quietly, a little spooked.

"Yeah," Aaron said absent mindedly. He had other things to worry about...and maybe the wolves following him could help him out in the end.

"Maybe they don't think you're human."

"So, how many of us are there?" Aaron wondered, changing the subject.

"You ask too many questions," Peter said stiffly, looking at Aaron suspiciously.

Aaron sighed and looked back down at his book, making another note, "Maybe you don't know, either. So, what are you doing up here anyway?"

There was silence for a moment and then Aaron heard the door shut, followed by a sigh. He noticed Peter move out of the corner of his eye, going to lean against the cool stove.

"How do you know that I'm not evaluating you?" Peter asked.

"I don't know. Are you? Maybe I don't care. Do you ever not care?"

Peter shook his head, and looked away, "Maybe you're evaluating me."

"I went off the grid for four days, that's why I'm here. I skipped my check-in. Now I'm on this bullshit scavenger hunt," Aaron huffed, closing his book roughly. That had been a test...he wanted to see if he'd be able to disappear and how long it would be before they found him.

"They have their reasons."

"Yeah, well...I thought I was having my wrist slapped, but now I'm not so sure. I'm still trying to  
figure out if you're supposed to kill me or give me a pep talk," Aaron joked lightly, even though he actually did mean what he said. This guy was confusing...what if he was one of the assets? Why is he even here?

"Seriously, man, you think too much."

"Aren't we wired to stick our nose in, you and I? There's not another person for 300 miles. I know nobody's listening. Come on, you've got to give me something. Talk to me, come on! Why did they pull you off the field and put you up here? It's not physical, with the way you've been moving, so what did you do? Turn down an assignment? Start thinking for yourself? Fall in love?"

Aaron watched as Peter stiffened, turning his back on him. He could see the defensive stance and could practically hear the words in the man's head, claiming that it was a lie.

"You fell in love," Aaron muttered, not really in shock, "It's better for wolves."

"There's an ammo box by the door, you take as much as you need. We're done talking. You ate, you're pulling out early. You should hit it," Peter said suddenly, just wanting him to be gone. He missed the silence of the mountains.

Aaron didn't want to push the man, but he had learned all he could from him honestly. He sighed and stood, tucking his book into his bag.

"Okay. Some other time, then."

"Yeah."

"Thanks," Aaron said as he moved to the cots, not really wanting to leave it as it was.

"Good luck," Peter whispered, moving to the window to stare outside.

Aaron moved down the short hall to the room with the cots, and took a seat on the bed. He ran a hand over his face and laid back, staring up at the bottom of the bunk above him. He tilted his head, reading Jason Bourne's name there. So he had been sent here too...he closed his eyes then and allowed sleep to take him from his life that he sometimes wondered about.

"It's really coming down out there. It's getting ugly."

"Oh. yeah? Well, maybe I should try to get ahead of it, huh?"

"No, it's too late for that. Just stick around. I need some help squaring the place away, anyway."

"Yeah, I don't know. I already have to do that medication write-up. I don't know if I want to have to explain my itinerary as well, you know what I mean?"

"Don't worry about the chems, I got that covered," Peter said as he moved to the back of the cabin, opening a drawer to pull out some keys.

"I'm gonna have a look," Aaron said as he himself moved to the door, pulling on his jacket. As he reached the door and opened it, he froze, "Are you hearing that? Are you expecting anything?"

"In this weather, without a heads-up?" Peter said incredulously, moving to the radio and turning it on.

"Well, it's definitely getting closer. What do you got?" Aaron asked, turning to Peter and looking over at him.

"Nothing, man, I got nothing."

"Is it working?"

"Yeah, it's working. The gear is fine. It's not the gear," Peter said, getting a bit annoyed.

"Well, maybe it's a resupply."

"They were here yesterday, and they can't land in this, anyway," Peter murmured as he moved to the window to look outside, "Who the hell is it?"

"I don't know...I don't know."

Peter released a breath and moved back, "We should spread."

"Yeah. Look, I'll take the nest. Let me know when you get eyes on it, okay?" Aaron said as he grabbed a rifle and stepped outside.

"Yeah, okay," Peter said, moving further back into the cabin.

Aaron moved across the snow, away from the cabin. He could see the nest ahead, mentally wondering why that name seemed to resonate with him. But as he reached the perimeter, he noticed a glow in the sky, moving straight for him. His eyes widened and he dropped down as the missile flew overhead and destroyed the cabin. Aaron stared in shock and then he was moving back there, checking for Peter. When he didn't find him alive, he dived for where the chems had been, digging in the snow. But all he had found were broken and dissolving pills. He cursed loudly, hitting the snow before jumping up to his feet and running for the woods.

His feet pounded against the ground as he ran. He could hear the drone in the air, no doubt tracking him. He needed to buy himself some time. Somehow...as he caught sight of the drone, he had an idea. He dived behind a small ridge and set up his rifle. He lined his sights up with the drone, and without thinking, took the shot. He hit it's wing, and it crashed into the side of the cliff, making it look like an accident. Once he was sure he was safe for the time being, he stood u and took off for the woods. He slung the rifle over his shoulder as he ran, breathing in practiced, measured breaths.

He looked around as he ran, seeing the wolves running after him again. He cut down a path, losing them for now. As the sun began to set, he found someplace safe to set up a camp and gather his thoughts. The night was cold as he sat down near the fire, cutting into his arm to remove the chip that the program had placed there. Aaron didn't have his chems, but he knew that he needed to go off grid now and not later. The program was killing them all off, most likely because of Jason Bourne. He didn't even flinch as he cut his arm and removed the chip. He looked the tracking device over and nodded to himself, knowing what his next step would be. He would need to get it into another warm body that moves...preferably not human.

As he heard the wolves howl again, he was given an idea, which is how he found himself running and being chased by wolves. Aaron kept his pace slower than normal, not wanting to lose them yet not wanting to be caught either. He had set a trap further into the woods to catch a wolf. He ran past the area and stood in the spot he had planned on, watching as the wolf ran into the area as well and stopped to snarl and growl at him.

"Hey! Get out of here! Go on, get out of here! Get out!" Aaron snapped at the wolf, waving his arms.

He watched as it continued advancing closer until his trap was sprung. Aaron shot forward and forced the tracker that he had removed from his own body down it's throat. He stumbled back then, releasing the wolf from the trap. It stared at Aaron as if he had committed some crime. Aaron only glared at it, ignoring the guilt he felt.

"You should have left me alone," Aaron said simply.

Aaron watched as it seemed to back up some, looking around, before it took off. Aaron silently hoped that his plan would work. Then he both saw and heard the drone attack, destroying the wolf. Aaron was safe for now...and presumed dead.

* * *

A/N: Review!


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